


Slow Hands

by pokeasleepingsmaug



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a song, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokeasleepingsmaug/pseuds/pokeasleepingsmaug
Summary: Modern AU in which the reader manages an equine sanctuary, and Ubbe is the replacement farrier after their old one throws his back out. Based loosely on the song "Slow Hands" by Niall Horan.





	1. Chapter 1

Finding a farrier was always such a pain, and of course as soon as the horses had gotten familiar with John, he'd thrown his back out. “Don't worry, I'm sending my apprentice. He's great with horses, good hands, calm voice. Even yours will be alright with him, I promise.” You were the assistant manager of an equine sanctuary that about fifty horses, ponies, mules and donkeys, all rescued from various forms of abuse or neglect, called home. Needless to say, there were some pretty severe.... issues that some of the horses had. You were about to protest, but he must have read your mind. “Shari met him last week. Loved him. I brought him to the sanctuary to help me with Ruby's shoes. Wanted to see what he thought. He helped me design them. Shari said they're helping?” His question was pointed.

You sighed, hating to admit defeat. “Yeah, they are. A lot, actually.”

“Ubbe will be there at one. You're the last appointment of the day, you guys usually take a whole afternoon.”

“Ubbe?” You sputtered, still looking for an excuse not to like him. “What kind of name is that?”

“He's from Sweden,” John explained. “Just give him a chance, okay? He's good, I taught him myself.”

“Fine,” you sighed. John chuckled before saying goodbye, and you hung up with another sigh. It was noon, and a dozen horses were scheduled to get their hooves taken care of today. Only Ruby would need shoes. Most of the horses at the sanctuary went without them unless they had a medical reason for them, like Ruby. Even an apprentice should be able to trim hooves, but it would still be a long afternoon. You went to start bringing in the horses.

…

You stood in the barn doorway, arms crossed, watching the green truck rumble slowly up the driveway. You'd given the horses a quick once-over with a soft brush, knocking the worst of the dust off them, and spending time with them had calmed your annoyance. Not even an apprentice farrier could shake your good mood now, you told yourself. The truck parked, and as the man climbed out of it, the breath left you in a rush. He was tall and handsome, even with his hair pulled back in a long braid. You didn't usually like long hair on guys, but on him, it worked. He grabbed a toolbox out of the bed of the truck before starting toward the barn with a long, easy stride.

He smiled as he saw you leaning against the door and stretched his right hand out to you. It was strong and calloused, but his grip was gentle as he shook your hand. “I'm Ubbe. You must be Y/n. John said to find you.” His voice was lightly accented, giving it an almost musical quality that put you immediately at ease. No wonder he was good with horses, with a voice like that.

“Yeah, come on in. John said you met Ruby before?” You asked, leading him to Ruby's stall. The little chestnut mare stuck her head over the half-door, greeting you with a gentle headbutt. You laughed and kissed between her eyes, grabbing her halter and slipping inside the stall. You led her out into the aisle.

“Ah, I remember you, sweet girl. Let's have a look at those shoes, hmm?” Ubbe crooned, voice soft and low. Ruby whickered, the quiet, affectionate noise horses reserved for people they trusted. You felt a pang of jealousy; you'd had to work hard for the old mare's affection. Ubbe stroked her silky neck before bending down, sliding his hand down her shoulder and leg, stopping at her hoof and applying a little pressure. Ruby lifted her hoof slowly, and you craned your neck to try to see. Stupid Ubbe and his broad back. You could see the definition of his muscles through the thin blue t-shirt he wore, and mentally slapped yourself into focusing on Ruby. It was hard though, with him bent over like that. You noted he had a nice butt before mentally scolding yourself again. 

“This one looks good, and her hoof isn't long enough to need a trim yet. John only put these on her a couple weeks ago, he just wanted me to check on her. I'll look at her other hooves and then would you walk her for me, maybe a little trot, just to see how she's moving?”

“Sure,” you agreed, working hard to keep the approval out of your voice. 

Ubbe raised his eyebrows at you as he straightened, moving to the hind hoof. “John said you would be hard to win over.” A slow, lazy smile spread over his handsome face, and you had to work hard to not just agree with him.

“I am not!” You disagreed, maybe a little too forcefully.

He laughed, picking up the hoof to inspect it. “Mmm, of course not. It's not a bad thing to be protective of these horses.” He stood and walked to Ruby's other side, trailing a hand above her tail to let her know he was still there, keep her from spooking. He finished checking Ruby's hooves in silence, nodding in approval. He fondly patted her shoulder. “Her hooves look great and the shoes don't need to be adjusted. Can you walk her for me?”

You led Ruby to the little grassy area outside the barn. You led her away from Ubbe so he could watch her hind legs, then toward him so he could watch her front legs. “The walk looks great,” he called. “Can she trot?”

“I've seen her trot in her field,” you answered, coaxing the chestnut into a trot. She obeyed, and you could swear you felt eyes on your ass as you jogged alongside her. You scolded yourself. He was here to take care of the horses, not to flirt with you. You turned Ruby and caught Ubbe smiling a little to himself, but his eyes were firmly on the mare, not you. You slowed her to a walk, and she heaved a longing sigh in the direction of the grass. “If she's good, I'm going to turn her out before I grab Gunner for you.”

“Of course.” Ubbe waved you off, pulling a water bottle from his toolbox. You turned Ruby into her field and jogged back. He was in the barn when you returned, chattering idly at Romeo in his stall. 

“He bites,” you warned.

“Don't sound so much like you're hoping he already bit me,” Ubbe laughed. You didn't dignify that with a response, only brought Gunner out into the aisle to get his hooves trimmed. Ubbe grabbed the clippers from his toolbox. You tried to ignore the perfect shape of his butt and upper strong upper thighs, the broad expanse of his muscular back and the way his damp t-shirt clung to his skin, but you were finding it harder and harder to dislike him. His voice was soothing as a lullaby, his manner steady and calm. He finished trimming Gunner's hooves quickly, and the two of you passed the afternoon in companionable ease as he took care of the rest of the horses.

He straightened, stretching his back out, as you led Romeo back to his stall. “There should be one more, right?” 

You nodded, settling Romeo in. “Yeah, just Bucky.” You sighed. “I really wanted John to take care of him, but...” you trailed off, shrugging. “You've done fine with the rest so far.”

Ubbe laughed. “Thanks for the resounding approval. Bring him out.” 

“It's never that easy with Bucky. He's only been here about a week. He's in the quarantine barn. We put all the new ones there until we're sure they don't have anything contagious.” You explained, leading him out. The quarantine barn was only a short walk from the main barn. It was much smaller, only two large box stalls and a small feed room. You changed into the muck boots sitting just inside the door. Everyone had to change their shoes when leaving the quarantine barn, in case there was parasites in the manure. “Here, John leaves an extra pair of boots here just in case,” you explained, motioning to them. Ubbe changed into them quickly, then followed you into the barn. 

It was light and airy, all the doors and windows open. Bucky was out in the small, grassy turn-out area that his stall opened into, and from there he could see some other horses in their field so he wouldn't feel lonely. At night you brought one of the goats into the barn to keep him company. You opened the stall door, halter in hand, crooning Bucky's name. 

He charged in through the field door, ears pinned and teeth flashing as he snapped. You backed quickly out of the stall, murmuring softly, explaining, “he wasn't handled too much and he hates being in the barn. He was locked in a stall for most of his life, it's why he's so small. Stunted his growth.” You were used to the sight of Bucky by now, but he'd shocked even you at first: emaciated, rough coat and ragged mane, hooves so long he could barely hobble. With a few good meals in him and his hooves trimmed last week by John, he'd gotten some life back into him. All that meant, though, was that now he had the strength to protect himself from the perceived danger that was humans. 

“Would he be more comfortable in his paddock?” Ubbe asked. 

“Probably,” you admitted. He followed you outside. You easily climbed the fence, again swearing you felt eyes on you, and again telling yourself you were crazy. Bucky snorted as the two of you landed in his paddock, but he made no move to charge you this time. He was smaller than he should have been, still too skinny, but he had some fire in his eyes now. He stood tense on his cracked, overgrown hooves, eyeing the two of you with head held high and nostrils flared. “Bucky,” you called out softly, starting toward him. One slow step at a time, murmuring softly the whole way, you finally made it to his side. You kept the halter on him, since he was hard to catch, so you just snapped the lead rope on it. 

“Good boy, bud,” you praised, gently scratching his shoulder. He huffed, still uneasy, but allowed the touch. He followed you slowly, still nervous. He snorted and planted his overgrown hooves in the grass when you got close to Ubbe, refusing to budge another step. 

“Easy now, big fella,” Ubbe intoned in his soothing, melodious voice. Bucky tossed his head a little. “I'm going to help you feel better so you can go play in the fields and make new friends.” He held out one hand, Bucky whuffed his palm, cautious, distrusting. “That's it, that's it, steady now, friend.” He slowly reached up to stroke between Bucky's eyes. He flinched only a little.

Ubbe slowly bent down, setting down his toolbox and grabbing his clippers. He walked to Bucky's side, singing in that calm voice of his, in a pretty language that you assumed was Swedish. He laid one soft hand on Bucky's shoulder and left it there, motionless, continuing to sing, as he waited for the little gelding to stop trembling. With a heavy sigh, Bucky dropped his head ever so slightly. Ubbe slid his hand down Bucky's leg and applied pressure at the top of the hoof, clucking his tongue once. Bucky hesitated and Ubbe waited, patient, until the horse decided to lift his hoof. 

Finally he did with a big sigh, and Ubbe placed the hoof between his knees to hold it and went to work with his clippers. He worked slower on Bucky than any of the other horses, singing in that language the whole time. He finished with the first hoof and set it on the ground. He moved to the rear hoof, still singing. Bucky swung his head around to watch him, ears pinned, suddenly tense. “Bucky,” you warned, voice a little firmer than normal as you tugged gently on the lead rope, asking him to turn to face you. That was when he decided he'd had enough. 

Bucky lunged, pulling his hoof from between Ubbe's knees. He reared up onto his hind legs, tugging the rope from your hands as you dodged his swinging hooves. One glanced off your arm as you jumped back, scanning for Ubbe. He'd been knocked over but seemed to have rolled out of the way. He'd jumped up into a crouch. Deciding he was free now, Bucky turned and ran to the other side of the paddock, tail streaming behind him. He huddled against the far fence, quivering. 

You sighed, rubbing your arm as Ubbe walked over to you. “Did he get you?” 

“He got my arm a little, not bad though. You?”

Ubbe rubbed his jaw, you could already see the beginning of what would be a deep purple bruise blossoming under his skin. “He cracked me with his leg.” He shook his head ruefully, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “And I bit the inside of my cheek.”

“Alright, let me get the lead rope off him. Do you have time to come back tomorrow? I can get the vet to come and give him a tranquilizer. Shari wanted to see how he would do without one.”

Ubbe nodded. “I have some time in the morning.”

“Thank you. Once I get the rope off him, I'll take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” Ubbe asked, but you were already walking slowly to the shaking horse.

It had taken nearly twenty minutes and a handful of apple slices to get close enough to Bucky to take the lead rope off. “Come on,” you motioned to Ubbe after changing into your other boots. “I have a first aid kit in my apartment.” You lead him over to the main barn and up the back staircase hidden in the corner of the feed room. Your small apartment was above the feed room and part of the barn, making it easy for you to check on the horses before bed. More than once, you'd flown down the stairs in the middle of the night, roused by shrill whinnies or hooves thudding against wooden walls.

“Have a seat,” you instructed Ubbe, motioning to the couch in the small living room. He sat obediently as you walked into the kitchen first and grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. You tossed one to him as you walked into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. You settled yourself on the couch beside Ubbe, opening the small plastic kit on your lap. “Open up,” you instructed.

He raised his brows at you. “I am not one of your horses, Y/n.” 

“No, if you were, you would have listened by now,” you retorted. He laughed, opening his mouth. This close, you couldn't help but notice how white and even his teeth were—no wonder he had such a charming smile. He pulled his lower lip back so you could see the bite mark, and you hissed at the sight of it. “That must sting.”

“It doesn't tickle,” he agreed mildly as you dabbed at it with gauze. There wasn't too much you could do for it, given the placement of it. You inspected the bruise on his jaw, shaking your head.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed. “He'll be sedated tomorrow. I can probably get the vet here by nine.”

“Then I'll be here at nine.” He grinned at you. “It's an occupational hazard, don't worry about it.” He caught your wrist in his big, warm hand and pulled it closer to him, peering intently down at your arm. “I thought you said he just glanced you,” he accused, prodding it gently with his long, blunt fingers. You flinched. “It's alright,” he soothed automatically, like you were a nervous horse. “It's not so bad. Nasty bruise, though.” 

He looked up at you through his long lashes, blue eyes unexpectedly tender. You tilted your head at him, questioning, and with a small smile he planted the gentlest of kisses in the center of the bruise covering your forearm. You drew your breath in, surprised. Maybe you hadn't been imagining his eyes on you earlier. Stunned into stupidity, the only thing you could think to say was, “the horses liked you. Usually their trust is harder to earn.”

Ubbe laughed, drawing a hot blush up your cheeks as you cursed yourself. Smooth like chunky peanut butter. “I bet they're not the only ones around here that don't trust easily.” His blue eyes were warm, and he turned the full force of his gaze to you. He tilted his wrist to look at his watch. He still hadn't let go of your arm, and he squeezed it gently. “It's almost six-thirty. May I take you somewhere for dinner, Y/n?”

“Why don't we get delivery and stay here? I have a bottle of wine,” you offered, suddenly bold. His eyes practically shot fire as they met yours, and he nodded. You quickly ordered Chinese from the place in town and settled back onto the couch, glasses of cheap merlot in hand. “So John said you're from Sweden?” you asked, taking a sip. You could feel it settling warm into your belly, and knew you'd feel it quickly. You hadn't eaten anything since before bringing the horses in for Ubbe, and a day in the sun made you relaxed and happy. 

“I moved here as a child, with my mother and brothers,” he told you. “After our father ran off. She thought a change of scenery would be good for us.”

“Was it?” you asked, aware of how rude the question was. You were too intrigued not to know.

He nodded. “It was. My youngest brother, Ivar, he's in a wheelchair. Mom put him in therapeutic riding when we moved here. That's how I discovered my love for horses, and because of that I'm drinking wine with a beautiful woman.” He smiled, winking at you, as he lifted the glass toward you in a mock toast. You couldn't help but admire his hands—broad palms and long fingers, callouses at their base. You wondered how those hands would feel on your skin. 

Ubbe must have read your mind, sliding his palms up your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. The doorbell rang and you hastily jumped to answer it. You carried the bag of food back over to Ubbe, twirling his wineglass in his strong, graceful fingers. “Dinner's here,” you announced unnecessarily. 

“I'm hungry for something besides Chinese, Y/n,” he said, voice practically a low growl washing over your skin. “Come here.” It was a gentle command, but one you were glad to obey as he opened his arms. He pulled you unceremoniously onto his lap, kissing you. His mouth was gentle and slow as his hands, rubbing circles on your back, and you melted into his touch. You parted your lips beneath his and his tongue slid into your mouth. He tasted of red wine and fresh air, his skin smelled faintly of leather and horses. In a word, he was intoxicating. Your hands moved to his head, fingers untangling the long braid and setting his hair free around his shoulders. It was almost as long as yours, wavy and dark blond, and you ran your fingers slowly through it. It was like silk in your hands, and seized by a sudden impulse, you pulled it roughly. 

He groaned into your mouth, hands tightening in the fabric of your shirt. “If you do that again I can't be held responsible for what happens,” he warned lightly, moving his hands from your back to your hair and freeing it from the ponytail. He tugged lightly on it and you kissed him again, harder this time. You leaned back against the couch, using Ubbe's long, silky hair to pull him down on top of you.

Those slow hands of his all over you, sliding up your stomach and chest to pull your shirt over your head. He took his hands in yours and guided them up his body. You moaned at the feel of his hard abs beneath your hands, the shock of hair in the middle of his chest, before pulling his shirt over his head. You slid your hands down his shoulders to play with his chest hair for a few seconds before running your hands back down his abs and over his sides. 

His hands were busy, too, and your bra sprang open at his touch. He tossed it to the side before wrapping his big hands around your breasts. He teased them for a bit before his wandering hands found their way to the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them but left them on for now, stroking down below the waistband of your panties with one finger. “Your skin here is so soft,” he told you, nuzzling into your neck. “I could stroke it all night.”

“I hope you decide to put your hands to better use than that,” you laughed. He grinned, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling.

“Your wish is my command.” And with that, he yanked your pants and underwear down in one quick jerk. The sudden rush of air at your already wet core had you practically panting, but his usually slow hands were quick to take their place there. “But since you specifically requested my hands, I don't think you're getting anything but them tonight.”

You palmed his cock through his jeans and he ground himself against you, gasping. “Not even this?” Desire was plain in your voice.

He shook his head. “Not even that. Not until you let me take you on an actual date. I have my virtue to look after,” he teased, one finger lightly flicking your clit. You bucked at the touch, and he grinned down at you. You unbuttoned his jeans and reached into his boxers, wrapping your hands around his thick girth.

“Why bother taking my pants off then?” you asked, pouting, as you began to slowly stroke him up and down.

“Makes it easier. I make a living with my hands, and I want you to understand just how good they really are.” He dipped one finger slowly into your entrance, hooking it to hit a spot that made you moan. He pumped his finger experimentally into you a few times fore adding a second, his thumb caressing gently over your bud. He was right, his hands were good. Deliberate and thoughtful, those slow hands had you calling out his name in almost no time. Ubbe was attentive, watching your reactions to discern what you liked.

Your grip tightened on his cock, still stroking him, marveling at the length and width of him, as he changed the pace of his fingers. They quickened just a little, still curving within you to hit that sweet spot he'd discovered. One of his hands gently slapped your ass and you came apart, writhing beneath the power of Ubbe's slow hands. You could feel him shuddering over you, the warmth and stickiness of his cum as his manhood twitched in your hands.

You looked up at him, surprised. “I didn't think I would make you cum just from that.”

He rested his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with a smile. “Hearing a woman moan for him does powerful things to a man.” He slid his fingers slowly from you and brought them to his mouth. He sucked on them, eyes rolling back in his head as he sighed in satisfaction. “Way better than Chinese food.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader chases a bunch of escaped mules down the side of the road, and of course Ubbe comes to the rescue. Then he bets the reader that he can have her squirming by the end of dinner.

Ubbe was supposed to pick you up for your first date any second, and so of course you were chasing four escaped mules down the road, praying they wouldn't get hit by cars. You cursed as you tripped over the lace of your untied boot. Leave it to the damn mules to walk right through a fence like it wasn't even there. Your boss, Sharon, was rounding up the three that had stayed on the farm. You heard the whine of an approaching car from around the bend in the road and desperately shook the bucket of grain in your hand. Not to be tricked, the mules kept on their merry way. 

You heaved a sigh of relief as Ubbe's green truck rounded the corner and immediately slowed down. He was jumping out of the truck in a flash, striding toward the mules with his hands outstretched. The small herd screeched to a halt, large ears flicking back and forth as they decided what to do. Ubbe kept coming at them, motioning towards you, raising his voice to gently scold them in Swedish. “Lead them back, I will herd them,” Ubbe switched abruptly to heavily-accented English.

He raised his voice in a shrill, melancholy call that had you shivering. It was halfway between a song and a call, the ancient sound of a herder summoning his animals to safety as night fell. The sound was warmth and safety, food and fire. It was sad and sweet, the bittersweet mourning of summer drawing to an end, of winter coming quickly with its icy breath.

You grabbed hold of Dolly's forelock to steady yourself and used it to lead her to the farm, followed by the sounds of clopping hooves and Ubbe's haunting, beautiful voice. . Luckily they hadn't made it too far, maybe a half-mile down the road before Sharon looked out her window and saw the broken fence. 

By the time you made it back, the other three mules had been rounded up and turned out with the donkeys. “We'll put them out with their mamas for the night,” Sharon told you. You followed her to the pasture behind the barn where the draft horses stayed. Most of the mules and draft horses had come from Amish farms. Usually, the draft mares were nursing mule foals when they arrived. Sharon opened the gate and you led Dolly in, quick to let go of her forelock and back out of her way.

She kicked up her large hooves playfully, squealing in excitement as she chased one of the large Belgian mares toward the fence. You felt the other three rush past you and closed the gate quickly before brushing your sweaty hair off your neck. Sharon shook her head as she watched the newly-caught mules play. “Thank you for your help, Ubbe. I didn't know you were coming by today,” Sharon greeted him with a knowing glance at you—untied boots, sweaty half-done hair, sundress hanging slightly askance. 

You could feel the blush painting itself up your cheeks as Ubbe smiled warmly at you. “I'm not here on business.” He let the implications hang heavy in the air for a moment before Sharon laughed, waving the two of you away with a laugh.

“Alright, get going. I'll handle any more escapades.” You took the easy out and fled, tripping over the untied laces in your hurry. Ubbe's hand at your elbow was quick to steady you, and he linked his arm with yours as you walked toward your apartment above the barn. 

“It looks like you had a busy day,” he began lightly, tugging you close against his side.

“It was quiet until I was getting ready to leave,” you answered, turning to look at him and tilting your head in curiosity. “What was that noise you made? With the mules?”

“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly, and he ducked his head self-consciously. “It's called kulning, it's an old Swedish herding call. Usually it's done to call cattle or goats, and usually it's done by women, but,” he shrugged, “I use it to call my own horses. It works.”

You perked up. “I didn't know you had horses.”

He nodded, grinning down at you. “I live on a small farm. Just a few chickens, one grumpy goat, a garden, and four horses. You're welcome to come over, if you want to.”

You nodded eagerly, insanely curious to see where he lived. “I would love to. Tonight, after dinner, can we go?”

“Of course.” He followed you up the stairs and into your apartment. He settled on the couch, motioning to his lap. “Come here. I want to braid your hair.” You perched on Ubbe's knees. With a warm chuckle he pulled you closer to his chest, leaning back against the couch. His gentle hands gathered your hair; clever fingers working through the few snarls he found. He scratched your scalp lightly and you sighed, melting into his touch. He grabbed a section of hair from the crown of your head and separated it into three sections. He wove the strands together slowly, pulling more hair into the braid as he continued. He tied off the braid with a leather thong he took from around his wrist, sitting back to inspect his handiwork. He nodded in approval.

You reached back to touch your hair, the braid neat but not too tight. You grinned back at him over your shoulder. “Now we match,” you stated, motioning to his long braid. He laughed, bending forward to press a soft, suckling kiss into your tender neck. You gasped as he pulled back, gentle hands on your hips pushing you to your feet. 

“Ready to go?” You nodded as you slipped on your shoes, eyes raking over him in appreciation. You'd been so distracted by the mules and then him playing with your hair, you'd barely noticed what he wore. He cleaned up nicely in black slacks and a simple blue button-down that was just a few shades brighter than his eyes. It hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to his lean, sculpted waist, where it tucked into his pants, held up by a black leather belt. His long light brown hair was pulled back into a neat braid, short beard freshly trimmed. 

Your mouth felt suddenly dry. How could he be so handsome all the time? It didn't matter if he was sweaty and shoeing horses or dressed to take you to dinner, no man should look that flawless all the time. It simply wasn't fair. Ubbe opened the door for you and followed you onto the landing at the top of the stairs. You started down, Ubbe following you. “So where are we going?”

“Do you like sushi?” You nodded, and he smiled. “For sushi.”

“What if I didn't?” You challenged, returning his smile. 

“I had four options picked out,” he admitted, not at all sheepish. “I wanted to be sure you would enjoy it.” He opened the door of his truck for you, holding a hand out to help you up, and closed the door behind you. He climbed in himself and backed down the driveway. The nearest town of any notable size was only about ten minutes away, but you had no idea where he was taking you. The radio was playing quietly in the background, but with a little cry of joy you turned it up. 

Slow Hands blared through the speakers and Ubbe laughed, looking over as you shimmied in your seat, singing along and pretending to trace a voluptuous body with your hands. “Will you be disappointed if my body isn't that curvy?” He teased, brows raised. You laughed, too, shaking your head as you sang along.

Suddenly you turned the radio down. “How is sweat dripping down dirty laundry sexy? I mean, just saying, that's what you get when you let guys try to talk sexy.”

“You don't think I can talk sexy?” Ubbe asked, tilting his head as he parked the truck. “I think I can have you squirming by the end of dinner.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you and followed you in. The hostess was quick to seat you in a corner booth. The waitress bustled off to get you a couple waters as you perused the menus.

“How was your day? Any horses as interesting as Bucky?” You looked at him over the top of your menu.

“It got a lot better once I saw this beautiful girl chasing some mules down the road. All I could think was how soft her skin would be under my hands.”

“That was weak,” you informed him, nonchalant. He furrowed his brows a little, then shrugged.

“I have all of dinner to get you squirming. Believe me, when I'm done you'll leave a puddle on your seat.” 

“Is that seriously the best you can do?”

His grin was slow and hungry as his clear blue eyes raked over the top half of your body. He shook his head. “Of course not, Y/n, but I have to start off slow, make sure you can handle me.”

You opened your mouth to reply but Ubbe's gaze shifted over your shoulder, his smile went from smoldering to businesslike. You placed your orders and the waitress left. “So you think I can't handle you?” You challenged him, meeting his shimmering blue eyes.

“I think you'll find I'm full of surprises.”

“So surprise me.”

“If you insist. Tonight, I'm going to make love to you. But first, I'm going to play with that beautiful body of yours, explore every single inch of it. How do you feel about being tied up?” His voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, but the question was almost abrupt. He tilted his head, waiting. Your heart pounded, but you tried to play it off like he hadn't just hit on something that intrigued you.

You shrugged. “It's fine.”

“The way I do it will be more than fine, I promise. I'm going to tie your hands above your head, have you standing in the middle of my room in only your high heels and a blindfold. You are going to be at my mercy as I learn your body. I'm going to touch every inch of you, to taste you everywhere.” He flicked his tongue at you in a deliciously obscene gesture. “There's a reason they call it a Swedish kiss.” The wink Ubbe sent your way zapped like lightning to your sex. You tried to keep your face neutral but you were biting back a moan, and a knowing smile was curving up the corners of Ubbe's full, soft lips. 

“Maybe I'll make love to you for the first time just like that, tied standing and blindfolded, or maybe I'll take you to my bed. I know it'll probably be uncomfortable for you to be tied with your hands over your head for too long, so we'll see how you're feeling and take it from there.” His smile is tender now as he continues. “And of course at any point if you want me to stop, just say stop.”

You're practically panting by now, and the waitress raises her eyebrows at you as she sets several plates of sushi on the table. Ubbe looks smug as he pops a California roll into his mouth. He smirks as he finishes chewing. “I win our bet.”

“You won't be smirking like that by the time I'm finished with you tonight, Ubbe.” He doesn't even bother trying to stop the low, throaty moan as you take a sip of water, smirking. Dinner is much less interesting than dessert promises to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ubbe makes good on his promises from dinner.

“Sweet little Runa,” Ubbe crooned, stroking a stocky dun mare between the eyes. “My brother Ivar’s horse, but I take care of her. And the big bay mare is Lola, the gray is Oliver, and the Appaloosa is Bandit.” Bandit huffed into your palm, his lips scrabbling over your hand as he searched for treats.

“They’re spoiled,” you note with a laugh, scratching the friendly gelding’s neck.

“They’re all rescues,” he retorts quickly. “And yes, very spoiled.” He strokes the big bay mare, slipping her a peppermint from his pocket. 

You turn toward him, nerves jangling in the pit of your stomach, but you smile up at him anyway. “I’ve seen the garden and met all your animals. I think all that’s left now is the house?” You try your best to keep your voice innocent, but Ubbe’s promises from dinner slip back into your thoughts unbidden. His smile is devious, as if he’s reading your mind, and he laces his fingers with yours. 

“It’s nothing too special, but it suits me fine.” He pushes open the back door and motions you inside. You enter into a small kitchen, painted a soft, sunny yellow, with white curtains fluttering around the window above the sink. You’re surprised by how homey it feels, but find on second thought that it suits him. The rest of the house is cozy, from the living room with its fireplace and fluffy rugs, to the pictures of his family and horses hanging on the walls. 

He pushes open the door at the end of the hallway. The room is dominated by a large bed with a carved wooden headboard and a soft blue down comforter. The walls are painted a soft off-white, with swirls of dark blue knotwork along the window and door frames. Ubbe waits behind you, his hands gentle as they stroke slowly along your back. “If you don’t want to,” he begins, but you cut him off by stepping into the room. You walk toward hook nailed into the wall, a cascade of dark blue knotwork painted onto the wall, reaching from the hook to the hardwood floor. You could already imagine the way the swirls and loops would frame your body when he tied you here.

His hands are warm and steady at the small of your back, his breath fluttering your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your neck. You can feel the eagerness in his lips, and you turn in his arms, letting him press your back against the wall as he claims your mouth with his. His hands are skimming along the hem of your shirt, fingers barely ghosting over your stomach, and you open your hungry mouth beneath his.

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, smiling breathlessly down at you. “Wait.” Ubbe backs away suddenly, a wicked grin on his handsome face, and returns with a short length of rope. He tosses it so the middle catches on the hook, leaving two small loops hanging down. You can see they’re tied with simple slipknots. “Undress,” Ubbe instructs you softly, “and then put your hands through the loops, and tell me when you’re ready. If you still want to do this, that is?” He presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips, smiling, and you feel yourself nod, excitement sharp in the pit of your stomach. You’ve been thinking about this since dinner.

Ubbe perches at the foot of the bed, his broad back to you, and you proceed to quickly strip off your dress. You decide to leave your lacy bra and panties on, and step back to the wall. It’s cool against your skin, steadying you, and you reach up to slip your hands into the loops. The pressure causes the knots to tighten, but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. You call Ubbe’s name softly, and his grin lights up his face as he turns. He moans quietly at the sight of you, his hands curling into fists as he rises, and you can see the struggle on his face as he slowly approaches, his eyes devouring every inch of you.

He stops with his body mere inches from yours. His head darts forward fast as a leaping wolf, mouth hard and hungry against yours, leaving you gasping into his parted lips. You could feel his smile as his hands came up, one on each side of your jaw, cupping your face and anchoring your mouth lightly to his. His thumbs stroke softly along your cheeks as he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his blue eyes a bit wild as they meet yours. “You look so fucking hot like this, Y/n. Fucking flawless.” His voice is raspy, rough with need, and suddenly his forehead is gone and his fingertips are trailing lightly down your neck. He grins in wolfish delight at the small shiver.

His mouth follows his hands, sucking at your neck but not quite hard enough to leave marks. “I decided not to blindfold you,” he murmurs. “I want you to see what I’m doing to you.” He pauses in his kissing to smile up at you, his blue eyes tender for a moment despite the darkness of his dilating pupils taking them over. “Besides, I want to make sure you’re comfortable, and this is only our first time.”

He straightens to plant a quick kiss on your lips before stooping down to explore your chest and stomach. “I like this. The color suits you.” Ubbe tells you, hooking a finger beneath a cup of your bra. His finger teases, stroking along the underside of your breast, and he sighs in contentment. “I’m going to take it off, though.” One hand snakes to your back, you feel him fumble around briefly before the clasp comes undone and your breasts are free. Your bra hangs uselessly from your shoulders, and Ubbe gives you a crooked grin as he moves it out of the way.

His tongue is warm and slow as it traces the edge of your breast, slowly working its way inward until he sharply flicks your nipple, drawing a gasp from you. His mouth sinks slowly onto the sensitive flesh, sucking lightly, his teeth just barely scraping against you. His hand is hefting your other breast as if testing its weight, kneading and squeezing slowly before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls your nipples, one between his fingers and one between his teeth, and you press yourself firmly against the wall as your knees begin to turn to water.

Slowly, he works his way down your stomach, hands tracing your ribs and down the curves of your waist and hips. He bites sharply just above your navel, then soothes it with a lick as you whimper beneath his attentions. You can feel his quickened breathing, his smile against your skin, and you jump a bit as his hand reaches around to grab a firm handful of your ass. He follows the brief squeeze with a sharp, playful smack that has you panting and giggling at the same time. “Ahhhh,” Ubbe hums, gazing up at you with those hungry blue eyes and a triumphant smile as his palm rings against your flesh again.

His hands creep forward, resting on your hips, his fingers digging in almost hard enough to be painful. He looks up at you nuzzling his cheek against your stomach as he speaks. “I want to taste you like this. How are your hands?” The barest pins and needles are starting to awaken, and you rotate your wrists lightly and feel the blood start to return.

“They’re fine for now,” you assure him, grinning widely, and he rewards you with a hard, sucking kiss to your hip before his mouth descends lower. His breath is warm, your sensitive sex ready to feel him. He’s spend the last several minutes adding kindling to a growing flame, and the first exploratory brush of his tongue draws a guttural moan from your throat. His mouth is just as slow as his deliberate, thoughtful hands, and with just a few more quick flicks across your sensitive bud, he has you mewling like a kitten. 

Ubbe presses his face forward, his tongue sliding over your slit once, twice, and a third slow, teasing time before it finally plunges into you. His jaws work against you, the roughness of his beard a wonderful contrast to the silkiness of his tongue and lips, and without the ropes holding you in place you know you’d be sliding down the wall. Ubbe knows, too, and tightens the grip on his hips to better support you. 

He keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, a trembling mess beneath his inexorable mouth and slow hands, and then he slowly slides himself up along your body. Your arousal is glinting in his beard as his hands reach up and slide yours from the rope. He wraps his arms around your waist and runs his hands down over your ass and the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you toward the large bed with its carved headboard. 

He tosses you onto the down comforter before pausing to pull his shirt over his head and step out of his pants, then pounces onto the bed with a growl and immediately covers your body with his. Every place your skin connects is like the dancing of lightning in a storm, and suddenly he draws back and throws your knees over his shoulders. He raises his brows at you, a silent question, and all you can do is nod.

Ubbe slowly pushes himself into you, his thick length parting you inch by torturous inch, and you’re moaning long before he’s sheathed himself entirely in you. You’re already shuddering around him as he finally slides home, and he pauses to give your ass a sharp slap just before he begins to move into you.

He begins slowly, giving you time to adjust that you barely need because he’s spent so long ensuring you’re ready, and once he realizes that his pace intensifies. It isn’t long before he’s rutting into you like his life depends on it, muttering filthy little compliments as he slams into you over and over. “You sweet, filthy little thing. Naughty girl, letting me tie you up. So fucking sexy.” 

He groans as you slam your hips back against him, needier than ever as your second orgasm begins to break through you. His eyes roll back as his fingers dig hard into your hips, locking you in place as his thrusts grow sloppier and rougher. After a few more moments he slaps your ass affectionately, gently lowering your legs from his shoulders and collapsing down into the bed to join you. 

His mouth is soft and warm as it finds yours, and you fit your body snugly against his as your breathing begins to even. His limpid blue eyes meet yours as he rests his forehead against yours, his hand resting against the small of your back. “Thank you. What do you need from me now?” His voice is still a little rough, but calmer now, and you shake your head and press your face into the crook his neck.

“Just this.” He smiles, humming softly in consideration, and rolls onto his back. You pillow your head on his chest and smile up at him, and he presses a gentle kiss into your hair.


End file.
